by Rachel Aaron
“May the Sun have mercy on their souls,” the High Priest said, lowering his head.
Most of the heads at the table were lowered, actually. Those who’d fought in Bastion had seen this before, but the jubatus clan lords had no experience with the horror show that was fighting the Once King. Tina had thought they’d be more freaked out, but they took the grim news with surprising stoicism.
“This is not our first time facing the monsters who wear the faces of family and friends,” Gray Fang said in a low, angry voice. “Windy Lake was regularly attacked by undead during the events of the Nightmare, with my own granddaughter, Lilac, as their leader.” She shook her old gray head. “We know too well the Once King’s cruelty, and we will not hesitate to strike.”
“Good to hear,” Assets said crisply, going back to his report. “These reanimations work for and against us. On the one hand, they add to the enemy’s already swollen ranks, but raising so many zombies takes time, and time gives us the advantage.”
Cinco snorted at that excessively rosy perspective. “You said there were two problems. What’s the other one?”
“Ah,” Assets said, looking down at his paper like he was hoping they’d forgotten that. “That would be the Blood General, Sanguilar. He’s the only Dead Mountain raid boss the Roughnecks failed to kill at Bastion. He’s also a top-tier five-skull who deals enormous damage and gains health every time something dies near him, making him virtually unkillable in army combat.”
Assets said all of this as quickly as possible, but Tina could practically see the sunlight dim as a palpable sense of doom descended on the room. As the dread rose, every eye in the room started drifting toward her, making it clear what they all expected.
“What about the surrounding zones?” Gregory asked hopefully. “The Savanna is large, but this is all the Kingdom of Bastion. We are surrounded by allies on all sides. Could any of them be brought in to bolster our ranks?”
Rends Iron Hides, James’s new sorta-dad, shook his head. “Shortly after launching our campaign to reclaim the Savanna, we sent scouts on our fastest runners to restore communications with our neighbors. The riders reached the borders well enough, but all of their reports have come back with ill tidings. As my brilliant son James already guessed, the zones around us were not as fortunate with their players as Windy Lake. Those who have not been decimated by player gangs have been inundated by out-of-control questlines left over from the Nightmare. We can expect no help from outside, and fleeing to another zone would mean running into additional unknown dangers.”
The already crushing sense of doom grew even heavier with every word he spoke. Across the table, several of the important-looking cats were now openly burying their faces in their hands. Not that Tina could blame them. This really did look like the end of their world.
“What about the players?” asked a white-furred jubatus wearing a necklace of crackling stormcite.
Tina’s head whipped back to Assets just in time to catch the end of a wink, filling her with fury as she realized that that question had almost certainly been prearranged. She shot Assets a searing look to see if she could trick any guilt to the surface, but the former corporate bigwig was apparently immune to shame, because he just kept rolling.
“What an excellent question from the head of the Water Born Clan,” Assets said, flipping to the next page in his stack with a flourish. “The player army currently stands at three hundred high-level individuals. That may not sound like much to some of you”—the golden-haired elf glared pointedly at a young jubatus in the back who was rolling his slitted eyes—”but it’s equivalent to roughly five thousand Royal Knights. Probably more.”
“Definitely more,” Cinco said.
“We also have an additional two thousand players below level fifty,” Assets went on, ignoring the Berserker’s rudeness. “They are classified as noncombatants under treaty and as such cannot legally be conscripted, but they can surely be convinced to volunteer to fight on their own given the right incentive.”
Pleased as she was that Gregory was sticking to his word about her lowbies, Tina still expected this to spark an explosion from the NPCs. Every player higher than level ten was technically combat capable, and anyone over level thirty was a serious fighter compared to the jubatus and gnoll forces. They’d been small fry at Camp Comeback against level-eighty Knights, but they represented a considerable fighting force under the current circumstances. Even Assets at level twelve was technically more powerful than some of the civilian lords present, and from the grumbling going on around the table, the cats knew it.
“The players are indeed an invaluable force,” Gregory said, his eyes on Tina. “One without whom I fear we cannot win.”
“The East Bastion Trade Company has already pledged ourselves to the fight,” Assets said. “But I cannot speak for the others.”
He looked at Tina as he finished. Everyone did. There were technically two guild masters sitting in this tent, but every damn eye in the place was on her, and Tina was getting sick of it. She was about to say as much when CincoDeMurder suddenly stood up.
“I don’t know where the Red Sands stand yet,” he announced. “We’ve been made a generous offer by King Gregory, but unlike some”—he sneered at Assets—”we don’t care about bullshit titles or land that will probably be overrun with undead soon. Me and my guys want to go back home to the real world.”
“You would abandon everyone to save yourselves?!” cried the jubatus lord with the stormcite jewelry. “Reprehensible!”
“Call us whatever you want, kitty cat,” Cinco snarled back. “You and your lot have been trying to kill us since day zero. We don’t owe you shit on a brick.”
“We killed you because you were plundering our city!” bellowed Captain Hightower.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Cinco said, cupping a hand to his ear. “I can’t hear you over last week’s genocide, or the fact that Windy Lake still has the corpses of eight players staked out in the sun by the water like scarecrows.”
Tina jerked in surprise. She hadn’t seen those, but then, she hadn’t been paying much attention to her surroundings what with all the moping and war meetings and surprise visits from kings.
“Those are criminals,” Gray Fang said sternly. “They tried to conquer Windy Lake shortly after the Nightmare broke and were punished accordingly.”
“I’m sure it’s sooo clear cut as that,” Cinco sneered back.
This triggered more accusations and more shouting, filling the tent in a deafening cacophony until the king banged his fist on the table.
“That’s enough!” Gregory yelled, shaking the ground with his enormous voice. When the room fell into terrified stillness, he cleared his throat and said, in a far gentler voice, “Roxxy of the Roughnecks has not yet spoken. I wish to hear what she has to say before we make any decisions.”
With that, the whole room went back to staring at Tina, who sighed. Rude as it was, she’d been glad of Cinco’s outburst. His “fuck you” attitude reminded her that the rich old lords at the table weren’t innocents who needed her protection. That said…
“You didn’t give the king a definitive answer yet, Cinco,” Tina pointed out, turning to study the man sitting beside her. “You said you didn’t owe them anything and that you want to go home, but you didn’t say you wouldn’t fight. Does that mean there’s a circumstance in which you would?”
The red-armored Berserker crossed his muscular arms over his even more muscular chest. “Can’t get nothing past you.”
Tina shrugged her stone shoulders. “I just want to know what you’re planning.”
“Then we’re stuck,” he said angrily. “Because my plan depends on you.”
“Come again?”
Cinco rolled his eyes like he couldn’t believe she was making him say this. “Everyone knows the Roughnecks are the strongest group here,” he spat. “At least when it comes to fighting monsters. You’ve got all the Dead Mountain gear, and you’re the only tank left in the world who can toe-to-
toe it with a level-eighty raid boss.” He glanced at Assets. “Twelve thousand soldiers? Who the fuck cares about that number? Half of them are so low level they’re useless, and we all know you can’t swarm-kill Sanguilar. Fucker gets health back every time someone dies in his vicinity. You could throw your whole army at him, and he’d only get more powerful.”
The room fell deadly silent as Cinco turned back to Tina. “I’ll put it bluntly: if you leave, this whole place is fucked. You and the Roughnecks, you’re the power, and this whole king-and-pony show is just a ploy to guilt you into throwing your lot in with Bastion. But if you and I team up, there’s nowhere in this shitty world we can’t go. Player gangs? Zones overrun by questlines gone crazy? We can kill them all. There’s nothing that can stand up to our two guilds combined, so my answer is ‘I’m sticking with you.’ Frankly, anything else is suicide.”
If he hadn’t put it so starkly, Tina would have been flattered by Cinco’s faith in her abilities. But it was all too clear that the Berserker was just doing what he always did: looking out for number one. Not that she faulted him for it. Tina was doing the same, except her “number one” was an almost-full raid plus one stubborn brother, and they were the ones she answered for.
“I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “But I can’t answer for the Roughnecks yet. Just like Red Sands, we have a lot of people who want to go home. Any other day, I’d say that if you want us to fight for you, all you have to do is pay up, but these aren’t normal circumstances. I understand this is a do-or-die situation for you, but we’ve already been away too long. If we stay and fight, I’m worried some of my people might lose their shot at going home entirely, and I can’t ask that of them. I won’t order my raiders to give up their lives for yours.”
“So that’s a no?” the king said, his giant shoulders slumping.
“It’s a wait-and-see,” Tina replied, her stone lips quirking. “As I am regularly reminded, I’m not Queen Tina. I have to think of what everyone wants, not just me. We fought for access to the Portal Keepers, but I haven’t even gotten to talk to them yet. For all I know, home might be just a spell away. I understand you’re in a hurry, but I can’t pledge my people to a fight without at least doing my homework first.”
“The kingdom of Bastion is willing to offer exceedingly generous compensation for your help, Roxxy,” Assets said. “Don’t think of this as a question of home versus stay. Think of it as how rich and powerful you’d like to be while searching for the way back.”
“More like ‘how dead,” CincoDeMurder growled, leaning closer to her. “This is a losing fight, Tina. We should bail before the trap closes this time.”
“Are you even listening to me?” she cried, glaring at both of them. “For the last time, it’s not up to me! You can throw all the bribes you want, but I can’t answer yet!”
“This isn’t a matter we can delay!” one of the jubatus lords shouted. “You’re their leader, aren’t you? Just tell your soldiers what they’re doing and be done with it.”
Tina threw back her head with a groan. She supposed this was an excellent opportunity to introduce these people to the concept of democracy, but she didn’t feel like having that fight—or explaining the Roughnecks’ internal politics—to a crowd of terrified feudal cats.
“Sorry,” she said. “You’ll just have to wait.”
No one was happy with that answer. The king looked desperate, his officers looked furious, the cats were hissing, and Cinco and Assets were both clearly gearing up for another round. It was a lot of pressure, but one of the nice things about being an eight-hundred-pound stonekin was that no one could push her around. She’d said not yet, and she meant it, and damn if she was going to budge. She was already opening her mouth to ask the king where the Portal Keepers were so she could get on with the “how do we get home?” questions when James’s dad-cat stood up.
“I think we have a solution to the problem.”
Tina blinked. The old cat was grinning like a…well, like a cat, and she didn’t like it at all. The annoying jubatus with the stormcite necklace was standing beside him, and the two of them were looking at her like she was a whole basket of canaries.
“Your Majesty,” James’s new dad said solemnly, “it is with great joy that I, Rends Iron Hides of the Claw Born tribe, along with my good friend, Reeds In Wind of the Water Born, announce the engagement of Morning Shimmer, first daughter of Water Born, to James, second son of Claw Born.”
Tina was shaking when he finished, her vision tinting literal red. But maybe she actually was getting better at managing her anger, or maybe stonekin just took longer to work into a killing frenzy than humans, because her voice was only moderately deadly when she said, “What?”
“Your brother is marrying into a great and noble clan,” Rend said, grinning at her like he’d just made the winning move. “You were not ready to commit your army when it was merely a battle of strangers, but this fight is now a family affair. You might be willing to leave us to die, but even a player won’t abandon her brother. And it’s a good match for James as well. Morning Shimmer is the most sought-after marriage in all the Four Clans. With this connection, your brother will have great standing in two noble families! Anyone would fight for such a glorious future, and if you value your brother’s life, you will have no choice but to stay and fight with him.”
All around the table, the jubatus lords murmured in admiration. It was clear all the cats thought Rend had just struck a finishing blow. King Gregory looked less sure, but Tina didn’t give a shit about him. Her eyes were locked on Rend, her fists clenched so tightly she would have crushed her armored gauntlets if they hadn’t been made of sun steel.
“You fucking asshole!”
“Roxxy,” Assets said, his already pale face going the color of paper. “Calm down.”
“No!” she roared, shooting to her feet so fast she almost flipped the table. Rage rose in her chest like magma from a volcano, because she knew Rends was right. Not about James liking the power—she didn’t think he cared if he was a noble cat or not—but since coming to this world, her lazy, class-flunking brother had become responsible to a fault, especially when it came to the NPCs. If his cat-dad said he had to stay and protect his new wife, he’d do it, never mind what his actual family thought. Hell, he was already buddies with the king. The only reason James wasn’t pressuring her to stay and fight right now was because he wasn’t here, but that didn’t mean Tina was going to let these assholes use him against her.
“Fuck you for trying to corner me with my brother!” she yelled, booming voice shaking the ground. “I don’t care if I have to burn this village to the ground myself, you are not marrying James off in absentia!”
“You dare threaten us?” Rends Iron Hides hissed, tail lashing.
“It’s not a threat,” Tina snarled back. “It’s a promise. All I said was ‘wait,’ but you couldn’t even last thirty seconds before using my brother to strong-arm me. Didn’t James save this place? You’re a special kind of under-handed asshole to repay him like this.”
“I have jumped over my own tail for my son, James!” Rends roared at her. “He got a better marriage than my eldest! Morning Shimmer is first born of the clan head himself. Not only does her beauty have no rival, she is skilled in all the feminine arts required of a lord’s daughter! She is the most desirable marriage within the Four Clans, yet she has selflessly agreed to marry a player for the sake of saving her family. We are all making sacrifices! How dare you accuse us of dishonor!”
“Dishonor?” Tina roared back. “You’re the one saying that marrying my brother is a sacrifice!”
“Roxxy, be reasonable,” Assets said sharply, grabbing her arm to whisper in her ear. “This is a legitimately medieval society. Lord Rends Iron Hides is being an exemplary clan head by their standards. You need to see it from their—”
“Shove it, Assets,” Tina said, yanking out of his feeble grip to jab an armored finger in the golden elf’s face. “This is as
much your fault as his. You’re letting them use my brother so you can keep your damn title!”
“The jubatus of Windy Lake are giving you a great honor!” yelled Captain Hightower, his face disgusted. “One they do not need to. I’ll remind you that you and your Roughnecks are all citizens of Bastion now. Your low-level players are protected by treaty, but if His Majesty wished it, it would be entirely within his right to conscript the rest of you into military service.” He bared his teeth. “If you cannot be reasoned, bribed, or shamed into doing the right thing, we can make you do it.”
“Captain Hightower,” the king said in a panic. “That’s not—”
Tina didn’t bother listening to the rest. She was killing mad, which meant she needed to get out of this situation before she did something she’d regret.
“Come on, Tina,” Cinco said, rising to his feet. “These people aren’t worth saving. You and me, we don’t need this place. Let’s bounce.”
He pulled on her arm, but Tina didn’t budge. She was dying to tell these assholes exactly where they could shove their damn threats. The only reason she didn’t was because she’d promised Zen she wouldn’t make rash decisions. She’d promised. Her people were trusting her to do the right thing, and she was trying her damnedest to figure out what that was when a frantic shout sounded outside the lodge’s canvas door.
“Sir! You can’t!”
The guard was still yelling when James burst into the lodge. He froze when the whole room turned to look at him, ears pressing flat against his head.
“James?” King Gregory said, breaking the silence. “What are you doing here? Is something wrong?”
The king’s gentle question made her brother jump. “I…” he began, swallowing as his eyes scanned the scowling room before coming to a rest on Tina. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Your Majesty, but I have something I must speak to my sister about immediately. I realize this is a bad time—”
“On the contrary,” Tina said, shrugging out of Cinco’s hold to put a massive hand on her brother’s shoulder. “It’s a great time. Let’s go.”